Twenty-two
by TheBlurredLine23
Summary: "...It's kind of ironic how things have turned out. In the past twenty-two years, I have transformed from a nobody who people looked right through when I spoke, to somebody who apparently carries enough importance that some people hang on every word I say..." Happy 22nd anniversary, Sonic. Rated T for chapter 1 for alcohol, just to be safe. The rest will be K plus.
1. Chapter 1: Twenty-one: Drunk

_____becca: Thank you! Yeah, I've been a nit-picker for grammar as long as I can remember and it always annoys me when people disregard it. And thank you again! I love writing both, and writing first person is lots of fun, especially for Sonic. No way! How can you say that? I'm very glad that you told me that-every review is appreciated!_

_A/N: This is long overdue and it's not even done yet...I thought I'd upload this bit first. Sorry Sonic for missing your birthday._

**"Twenty-two"**

**Sonic characters belong to SEGA. Certain others (Vinny Carkam, Mac Arvin, Nerry, etc.) belong to me.**

It's nine o'clock according to the wind-up on the mantel.

They stand across Amy's living room, empty glasses in hand, chattering about things—plans for another day, funny stories about the random conversation he had at the hardware store yesterday, or commenting on the pretty flowers she arranged herself. Voices rise and fall according to emotion, hands often accompanying, occasionally puncturing the atmosphere with a laugh. Some lean on walls, others recline on chairs. Somebody is standing in the center of the circle, evoking laughs from the audience gathered around. Somebody else is scraping out the dregs of the punch, and yet another is polishing off their third slice of cake bearing my image.

So where am I in this picture?

This is one of the rare moments I have been alone today, leaning by myself comfortably against a wall, for once simply sitting by and witnessing the action rather than being in the thick of it. Rare. Rarely I have to seek out company on a day like this—there's often at least one person beside me, striking up some kind of conversation, or at least coming to bring birthday greetings. But now is one of those quiet moments, and I honestly can't say I don't enjoy it somewhat.

Me, not want company? I can't be serious.

This time yesterday, I was sitting on my rooftop, silently hoping that maybe, _maybe,_ I could spend my birthday by myself this year.

Heh. So much for that. I woke up to Amy throwing stones at my window. Like Romeo and Juliet or something like that, she said.

It's kind of ironic how things have turned out. In the past twenty-two years, I have transformed from a nobody who people looked right through when I spoke, to somebody who apparently carries enough importance that some people hang on every word I say. Sometimes I like that. I love hanging out with people. I guess you could say I'm friendly, outgoing.

But it gets a little annoying when nobody will leave you a spare moment to think.

I look down into my mostly-empty cup and move my wrist in tiny circles, watching what's left swirl around in clock-wise circles. A disapproving shake of the head comes as I recall last year's events—last year, there wasn't punch in the cup.

Last year was the 21st anniversary of the first time I beat Eggman, the 21st anniversary of the first time I turned fifteen. That's right: the first time. The next year was also my fifteenth birthday, and the next year, and the next year… But a couple of them—Vinny Carkam the Ferret and Mac Arvin the Lion—interpreted it as my 21st birthday (so I was one when I beat Eggman?), and they brought me to a pub for drinks that night.

And I don't mean Sprite.

I'd seen it in passing once or twice—the Racketteer is one of the most famous pubs across the planet. Looked pretty nice from the outside, but man, as soon as I walked in, I could smell the stench of the liquor on everyone's breath—and I thought Eggman's factories were bad. People were sitting at the bar, or at one of several different brightly colored stools and tables, sipping just as brightly colored drinks. It was kind of dark in there, with disco balls and lamps throwing colored light here and there. The occupants of the bar had been chatting (or yelling, in some cases), but it fell silent when Vinny and Mac walked in with me.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Nerry, the bartender pig, set down the glass he was wiping for a moment to greet us. "Little bit underage, huh, Sonic?"

"Eh, give 'im a break, Nerry. 'E's been fifteen for the past two decades," Mac said with a swish of his large, calloused hand. "It's the 21st anniversary anyway."

"Oh?" Nerry bent down so he was at eye level with me. "Izzat so? Little Boy Blue wants to try a big boy drink?"

I bit my lip from the inside and tried my best to keep what I hoped was a neutral expression, resisting the urge to lie and blurt out, _No, I just happened to be passing by. I think I'll be on my way now._

I cringe today, because I probably should have given into my gut.

"Give him a Blue Blur," Vinny ordered Nerry, since my lips were clamped firmly together. "He'll like that." He gave me a sidelong glance, then looked back at Mac and Nerry. "Being created in his honor after all." The trio burst out laughing, although I didn't see why me being a drink was entertaining.

Once he'd stopped laughing, Nerry gestured to an open seat at the bar, one that happened to be blue. "Here, the seat of honor right here, Mr. Hedgehog." I plopped down on the seat and tried my very best to look casual, even propping up my elbow and leaning on my hand. Nerry walked behind the bar, taking mixing cups of various sizes and pouring different drinks into them, some clear, red, blue. Then he mixed them with a great flourish, shaking them over his head, doing loop-de-loops, juggling them—"To represent your adventures," he called. It was a pretty nice show, I have to admit, but… well, I can only do those tricks when I'm clear-headed, if you know what I mean.

I made myself sit through all of that, even though I almost got up and announced I was leaving about ten times. Nerry, in the meantime, milked the moment, I think—he added more flourishes than probably necessary. What with a few cameras coming out and numerous oohs and aahs at the prospect that I was going to get my first "drink", who wouldn't? I tried my best to keep an unimpressed expression, or at least a straight face.

After about five minutes, he finally poured the final product into a margarita glass, added one of those cute little red umbrellas, and slid it over the counter. "Here," he said, a devious grin forming on his face. "The Blue Blur's first drink."

I spent about two minutes merely sitting and staring at the little drink sitting, ironically, rather innocently on the tabletop in front of me. In that amount of time, a surprising number of people gathered around at the bar.

"So much for 'fastest thing alive'," Nerry remarked, evoking a few chuckles from the crowd. "Come on, Sonic, we don't have all night."

"It won't take that long. Just need a minute to size 'im up." I even surprised myself with the confidence I carried in my voice. It certainly didn't reflect how I felt.

"Betcha can't finish the entire thing," Mac rumbled.

"Is that a dare?" By the confident smile I felt on my face and the look of momentary surprise on his, I seemed pretty sure of myself. Like the confident hero I was supposed to be, not a crumbling mess that felt like he was going to melt into a puddle of blue goo any minute.

I consider myself a decent actor.

He recovered from his shocked expression after a moment, laughing. "Sure, let's make it a dare. I honestly doubt you can finish it."

"Well, then, that's settled." Me being me, I stood from my stool (even though I thought I'd forgotten how) and raised my voice so that everyone could hear: "I'll prove it all to you by finishing the entire drink…in one go!"

Cheers erupted as I feigned a proud smile, even daring to wink at Mac as he stared on, and picked up the glass with my thumb, pointer, and middle finger. "Cheers."

_Here goes everything…_

I hesitated for a moment. _Gulp. Come on, Sonic, just tip it down, and it'll be over with. It'll be easy._ I looked about to see who was watching in that brief moment—a few were standing in the doorway, looking as though they had just popped in to see the spectacle. A few had their camcorders on, others had cell phones out to take pictures. Then, with a quick flick of the wrist so that I wouldn't have time to change my mind, I dumped the entire contents of the glass down my throat.

Chaos. Me and my big mouth.

The second it touched my tongue, I wanted to spit it right out—Man, how could anybody drink a _mouthful _of this?—but by then, I'd already swallowed too much, searing down my throat, scorching it like an inferno in a forest of dead, dry trees. A vague memory came to mind—seven-year-old me, accidentally gulping down an unlabeled bottle of spirits because I thought that it was water. How was I supposed to know then, being a dehydrated little kid living on the streets? But this time, I knew exactly what I was diving into.

Idiot.

One would think that, what with my body being able to process things lightning-fast, that I'd be able to hold my own with a little drink. But no, that's not the way things work with me: faster means it goes faster into my bloodstream, and what with my heart doing what it does, I don't even get the highs before I reach the lows.

My head started spinning, a new feeling for me. Usually I'm spinning, but I feel fine. This time I was standing perfectly still and I felt dizzy. I gripped the edge of the bar with a sense of urgency—I couldn't fall down in front of these people. Just because I was an idiot didn't mean that I wanted to admit it. The lights were suddenly too bright, and Vinny's lime-green fur hurt my eyes and began to blend with Nerry's turquoise tuxedo. Throwing up seemed like a good idea, but fortunately all that came out was a mildly surprised sounding, "Whoa."

Nerry's chuckle pounded loudly in my ears. "Got a bit of kick to it, huh?"

I forced myself to laugh a little, although it hurt to do so. "Yeah… I wasn't expecting that." World's second biggest understatement, right after _"Eggman hates me."_ "I think I've had enough, guys."

"You sure?" Vinny asked. "We've got all night. Come on, man."

My head screamed angrily as I shook it, trying not to sound breathless. "Nah. Don't wanna overdo it… What if Egghead does something tomorrow?" As much as I dislike the guy, he's my fallback excuse for everything.

"Then you'll be giving him a chance! Hah!" Mac roared, sending the crowd into fits of laughter.

"Nah, I think I'll quit while I can still think well enough to refuse." I forced a smile, trying my very best to not let my hand shake as I set the glass back onto the bar (I'm surprised I didn't drop it by then). "Thanks again, fellas." Nodding to Nerry, Mac, and Vinny, I did my best to walk calmly out the door and even managed three hundred miles per hour as I left the way I had come.

Once I was about a mile outside Station Square, however, my legs turned to jelly, and I ran straight into a maple tree. I sat there under the tree, not moving for what felt like hours. Nothing felt right anymore, like somebody had frozen then microwaved my insides then crushed them through a juicer like the way Vanilla makes orange juice. Vomiting sounded like a good idea once again, and I wanted to sit there forever, wallowing in my illness.

_But no, you can't,_ I told myself. _No. You have to get home. Then you can vomit,_ I promised myself. _Then you're going to drink lots of water and go to bed. Yeah. That's a good idea._ I almost smiled in an attempt to show my conviction—not that anybody was watching, but that was a probably a good thing.

I don't know how much of that I ended up saying aloud, but I impelled myself to stand and stumble back home. Somehow I made it—managing a measly fifty, running into the same number of trees on the way there, but I made it. I fumbled with the lock, kicked off my shoes, and stumbled upstairs into the bathroom. I was lucky that I made it to the toilet before the drink came back up.

It tasted even worse the second time.

It took me about half an hour to convince myself that everything had come out, including the cake and whatever else I'd consumed before the drink, and even after that, I half-sat, half-lay on the cool tile floor for another ten minutes, vowing to never touch alcohol ever again, even when I really turned twenty-one.

Tails told me once that my brain has to have the best, like a high-functioning machine; feed it even a little too much junk and I _feel_ like junk.

Why was he always right?

I gingerly compelled myself to get up with plenty of help from the sink counter, splashed water haphazardly all over myself, for once hardly caring that I was wet, and gulped down mouthful after refreshing mouthful of water straight from the tap. _Keep it down, keep it down,_ I told myself, although my stomach was screaming otherwise. Not able to stand up any longer, I dragged myself across the hall into my bedroom, crawled under the covers and passed out into fitful bursts of sleep.

Usually I wake up with the sun so I can kick-start my day with a run. The next morning, however, I slept through my morning run _and_ Tails and Amy's alternating attempts to call me about five times because I had the covers pulled way over my head and the pillow mashed over my ears. I woke up about the sixth time the phone rang, and picked up on the seventh. (I figured these numbers later after checking the messages on the phone.)

"H-Hello?"

_"Hi, Sonic, I was wondering if you were going to—"_ Tails abruptly cut himself off when he heard how terrible I sounded. _"Are you okay?"_

I considered lying and saying that I was fine but didn't want him to bother me today and to tell everyone else to do the same. Then I reconsidered. How much could I hide from him anyway? He's a smart kid; he'd figure it out sooner or later. And I'd rather he heard it from me. "Ye—no. No, not really."

_"Huh, I thought so. It sure didn't _sound_ like you were fine."_

"Mmm."

He paused for a moment, taking in my response. _"You sound like somebody having a—"_ He cut himself off again. _"You didn't…"_ I imagined he was shaking his head on the other end in disbelief. _"Did you—?"_

"Believe me, Tails, it was one drink—impulsive dummy I am decided to down it, just so I could prove I could—and now I feel horrid. I won't be doing it again, even if I ever turn twenty-one. I swear." My head throbbed even harder as if in agreement. "I didn't even think it would be this bad—"

_"Don't explain,"_ he said. _"I'll be right over."_

What're best friends for?

True to his word, he was over in about five minutes. Luckily, I gave him a key so I didn't have to get up to open the door for him. "One drink, huh?"

"Yeah."

He shook his head, and, without saying a word, went off to prepare something to eat.

The rest of the morning we spent together, him forcing me to drink water although I always thought I was going to throw it up again, making me drink broth so I wasn't malnourished. Amy came around ten, "Because nobody was answering the phone." Needless to say, she was appalled when she saw me, and because I was feeling the tiniest bit better, I confessed the whole story to them. The best part? They just laughed. For this reason alone I'd confide something like this to them, because they'd just laugh it off and forget it, instead of rubbing it in my face like some people would.

"You okay, Sonic?"

I look up from the cup, and Tails is looking at me with a small degree of concern. Discreet, but it's there. Always looking out for me, whether it's wondering where I am or if I'm feeling all right. "You looked kind of lonely standing here by yourself."

I smile at him and reach over with my free hand to ruffle the furry fringe on the top of his head. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just remembering last year, is all." I give a sidelong glance at the plastic cup in my hand, and he laughs. "But now that I think about it, it's been a long day. Think I'm gonna head home." I chuck the plastic cup from my spot to the nearest trashcan, shooting it like a basketball through a hoop. "Getting kinda late."

Tails looks up at the clock, which now reads nine-ten. Not that late, but he doesn't question it. Dunno how I'd manage if he was nosy, since I do _plenty _of questionable things now and again.

"Leaving already, Sonic?"

Unlike _some_ people…

Amy comes out, holding a tray of some kind of blue cookie. "These just came out of the oven." This is her way of saying, _Please don't leave._ She has this strange idea that I'll stay if there's food.

I shrug.

Disappointment shows briefly on her face. "Oh. Well, at least take a cookie." She doesn't need to say the rest: _Because I made them just for you._

I pick up a cookie and bite into it, just to humor her. It's not bad, though; I smile and give her a thumbs-up with my free hand. She smiles back.

She and Tails follow me to the door, where I give a shout to the whole group. "Hey, guys! I'm off! Catch ya later!"

A chorus of good-byes ensues, and I don't really get to leave for at least five minutes, what with Amy pressing at least five more cookies into my hand, Cream pressing flowers into the other, Tails piling my gifts into my arms, and all three (or I guess four, if you count Cheese) trying to squeeze in a couple side hugs. I likely say good-bye about twenty times before I finally step outside into the cool, dark night.

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_A/N: More to come...please review!_

___bearvalley3365: Thank you for reviewing, but I deleted your review because I don't appreciate usage of reviews to talk about OCs that have nothing to do with my story. I apologize if that was not your intent._


	2. Chapter 2: Twenty: Time-travel

_A/N: Reviews from last chapter..._

_becca: Thank you! Yeah, I've been a nit-picker for grammar as long as I can remember and it always annoys me when people disregard it. And thank you again! I love writing both, and writing first person is lots of fun, especially for Sonic. No way! How can you say that? I'm very glad that you told me that-every review is appreciated!_

_nobestseller: Thank you. I'd like to think that I have improved somewhat since I started. Practice is definitely beneficial! Aww, I get a hug? :D I hope you enjoy my next stories...once I get them up here. :)_

_kopo: It's good to see you back! :D As I told __nobestseller, I'd like to think I have improved. :D Heh, I'm glad to hear my imagination is "accurate" since I haven't experienced it...and if it is accurate, I don't think I want to! D: As to your story suggestion, I've already taken the idea that he can't run ("My stories only end when I stop running!"), but in a very different way...Wait and see. :D_

_A/N: Thanks for the wait, guys. This is not as long as the first one, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows!_

* * *

I begin down the path I usually take back to my house. It's about five miles from here, but I allow myself a slower pace so I can take in the starry view. That, and I don't want to drop everything. Thankfully, I'm just carrying the small stuff—Tails is bringing the bigger things over tomorrow morning. The night sky greets me, twinkling with an almost friendly demeanor, as if the stars were smiling. I return the imagined smile.

My world is almost always filled with sound: music, voices talking, wind swishing, feet slapping, breathing, heart pounding, the sonic booms I create. It's quite a marvelous world that I live in, and though my eyes are the largest things on my face, I relish just listening, closing my eyes and listening to the sounds around. Now there's just the tapping of my feet as I walk, and the occasional animal noise or wind brushing the trees and grass. I close my eyes and just listen for a while, appreciating the tranquility.

I definitely needed that after the ordeal with the Time Eater.

It's been two years since then, but I still can't quite figure out exactly what happened—everything was wiped out of existence, quite literally a clean, white slate. I teamed up with—guess who?—my past self. Sure, I _sounded_ pretty confident and unfazed, but I remember half the time my thoughts were occupied with, _What the heck just happened here?_ Talking to myself is one thing (don't believe me, ask Tails; he's caught me more times than I can count)—making plans with myself, talking to myself as another person as well as a past version of _Tails _with the one I know right beside me… I think that has to be the weirdest thing I've ever done in my entire life. And I've had _weird_.

Sure, everything ended up all right, and we managed to restore everything back to the way it was before. Sure, I had fun and pretty much enjoyed myself looking through my past adventures. But reliving the adventures meant reliving not just the good parts, but also the bad. I was always watching myself somewhere in the back of my brain, my mind scrambling to remember if I did it that way the last time, because if I messed up, I could screw up the entire timeline in the process. And I think the messed up timeline got to me afterwards—for a couple weeks afterwards, horrible nightmares haunted me, depicting what could have happened if I hadn't succeeded— because numerous times, I nearly didn't. Many a night afterwards Tails or Amy would stay over just in case I started screaming, even though I lied and told them it was unnecessary.

"It's just a dream, just a stupid dream," I told myself one night, wrapped up to my ears in the bedcovers like a small child. "S-stupid dream…"

"Sonic?" The door creaked open, revealing half of an orange-and-white furred face.

I instantly tried to wipe my face of any emotion. "It's nothing, Tails. Go back to sleep."

Instead of listening to me, he opened the door farther. "Don't lie to me, Sonic." Again, that stern tone masking the worry beneath it.

"It's nothing."

"It is not nothing. It's _never_ nothing," he insisted, finally pushing the door open all the way, walking in bare-footed. "Come on, tell me." He even walked up to the edge of the bed, and when that didn't work, climbed onto it and sat next to me. "Please. I won't sleep 'til you tell."

"Don't wanna talk."

He gave me a look, staring his sky-blue eyes right into mine, no matter how much I tried to look away.

I let out a long breath. "Time Eater ate you again. I went to the spot you were frozen in—you weren't there," I said quickly, skipping over the fact that he wasn't there because Eggman had gotten there first and blown him out of existence, the remains of his shoes and gloves littering the floor around…

"Oh." I knew he sensed there was more to the story, but again, there was this understanding of _Don't question it._ Pretending to be satisfied with my answer, he crawled closer to me, leaning his body against mine and wrapping one of his golden tails around me, like he did a lot more often when we first met. Although I hadn't asked for it, I appreciated the gesture and leaned back into him. I don't like to admit being soft, but who wouldn't be comforted by such warm, soft fur?

We sat like that in the dark until about five o'clock in the morning. I was sure he'd fallen asleep—he'd done it before—until his small voice piped up, "Can I come running with you?"

As it turned out, I did end up taking him, and the early morning run turned into a late morning run, then an afternoon run, then an evening run—we stayed out the whole day, only pausing to appreciate the view here, or to eat there, but never fully stopping. Amy begged for an explanation when she walked in the next morning after finding both of us asleep in the blue armchair.

Maybe it was hanging out with him, since he had himself duplicated too, or the sensation of just being on the move, out-pacing the horrible memories and keeping the good, or maybe some of both—but I stopped having so many nightmares after that.

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_A/N: More will come...eventually. Heh heh._

_bearvalley3365: *shrugs* I told you, if you want them in the story, you can send me their stats/bios, but I wouldn't count on it._


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